


Take my Dreams

by Meg_Thilbo



Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Hobbit - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Alternative Universe- Dreamwalker!Bilbo, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Ficlet, First Kiss, M/M, One-Shot, Thorin has nightmares, Thorin is a Softie, bagginshield, slight PTSD
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-17
Updated: 2015-08-17
Packaged: 2018-04-15 05:37:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,824
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4594827
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Meg_Thilbo/pseuds/Meg_Thilbo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bilbo is a dream-walker. That is to say, if he so desired, he could enter the dreams of others. When Thorin has a nightmare one night, Bilbo decides to intervene and it leads to unexpected consequences.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Take my Dreams

 

Bilbo was a dream-walker. That is to say, if he so desired, he could enter the dreams of others and speak with the individual’s unconscious mind. Or, he could simply stand by and watch the dream unfold, enjoying the scenes as they unfolded and observing a world which could only exist within the imagination of others.

However, it was not a gift he often used. Dreams were private and as a private person, Bilbo could appreciate the privacy of others. He couldn’t always help it though. The first time it had happened, he’d been sharing his parent’s bed after having a nightmare. Clutched in his mother’s arms, as soon as she had drifted off to sleep, his mind had become filled with scenes of flowers and memories of his mother as a child, walking through the meadows surrounding the Shire. And what had been even more curious was that she could see him too and had implored him to play with her. When his mother had awoken, she’d told him of her strange dream, believing it to be nothing more than that. And Bilbo had not told her of his gift, he’d told no-one, not understanding what it was until long after his parents had died.

And he certainly didn’t dare tell the hobbits of the Shire. Anything that was remotely ‘unnatural’ was looked down upon and shunned immediately and Bilbo needed the warmth and security the Shire offered, more than ever after he’d lost his parents and found himself alone within Bag-End.

As such, Bilbo did not tell the company. After all, what use was his ability to walk in others dreams? He certainly had no desire to walk in the dreams of a dragon who he desperately hoped was going to be fast asleep or even dead by the time they reached the Mountain.

And yet, his ability came into use in a way he did not quite anticipate.

 

* * *

 

 

Bilbo shivered and curled further into his bedroll as a harsh gust of wind swept over their campsite and ripped through the thin fabric which covered him. He’d only been on this quest two weeks and he was already considering whether he would be able to get back to the Shire. There was the contract... but then he could always steal it. He was supposed to be a burglar after all...

The only sounds that filled the night air were that of the company’s snores and the crackling of the small fire that lay too far away for Bilbo’s comfort. Rolling onto his back, he stared up at the starlit veil above him, hoping that if he counted the stars, he’d finally be able to get the sleep he’d thus far been denied.

However, before he could even get to twenty, a harsh whimper broke through the air. Frowning, Bilbo lifted his head and gazed around the camp, hoping that an animal hadn’t decided to rummage through their packs and steal from their supplies of food.

Much to his relief, the camp was still, the only movements being the rise and fall of the dwarves’ chests and the branches which moved in the wind.

Before he could put his head back down, however, his gaze fell on Ori whose eyes were trained on a form towards Bilbo’s right. The young dwarf looked startled, as though unsure what to do now and Bilbo couldn’t say he envied him. Thus far Bilbo had managed to escape watch-duty although he thought that was mainly down to Thorin’s distrust of him and his belief that Bilbo was too incompetent to do even so much as raise the alarm in any sign of trouble.

Following Ori’s line of sight, Bilbo’s eyes widened when they fell on the form of the sleeping King himself. The dwarf lay with his back to Bilbo, but even he could see from the tension in Thorin’s shoulders and the occasional shudder that ran through the dwarf, that more than the cold affected his sleep tonight. It was a curious sight indeed, to see such a strong and noble dwarf, so vulnerable in a state of sleep.

Deciding that sleep was going to elude him, whether he tried to get back to sleep or not, Bilbo slipped out of his bedroll and steadily got to his feet, wincing at the cramp that the cold had set into his muscles.

Ori had noticed Bilbo by this point and as they eyes met, the dwarf threw Bilbo a look that could not be mistaken for anything other than a message to say, ‘ _What should we do?’_

In response, Bilbo just placed a finger to his lips and made his way over to the King’s side. Three options lay open to him: he could leave the King to his tortured sleep and join Ori by the campfire, or he could wake the King and hope he didn’t take Bilbo’s head off when he was startled awake... or he could try and ‘intervene’ and deal with whatever consequences lay after.

For a moment, the most favourable option seemed to be to leave the King, after all, it was not Bilbo’s responsibility to look after a dwarf who had made it quite clear, on quite enough occasions, that he could look after himself! But before Bilbo could turn away from Thorin’s side, the dwarf sobbed and curled further in on himself, his brow furrowing and mouth twisting into a pained expression. How could Bilbo turn away from the dwarf, regardless of what he’d said and done, when he was so troubled?

Now the question came of _what_ he would do. He could wake Thorin, and risk the dwarf’s rage when he realised Bilbo had caught him in a moment of weakness. No doubt Thorin’s behaviour towards Bilbo would only worsen after this, the dwarf was so full of his bloody pride, he would have to re-double his efforts to prove his strength and valour.

It would still be safer than the third option. If Thorin woke up and caught Bilbo whilst he had his hand pressed against the King’s face, Bilbo did not even want to think what he would say or do. If it wasn’t for the fact Gandalf was with them, Bilbo would expect his bags packed and the contract to be shredded before he could even say ‘second-breakfast’. But if it worked, Thorin could get a good night’s rest and Bilbo could go on being, well, Bilbo. The risks were great, but the pay-offs were greater still.

As for Ori... well he would get to Ori. The young dwarf seemed companionable enough and maybe trustworthy enough to keep Bilbo’s secret. Opening up after so many years of secrecy would be difficult, but it would be relief to confide in someone and talk to _somebody_ about his gift, without fear of repercussions or rejection.

Lifting his eyes, he saw the young dwarf watching him with a confused frown spread across his expression. Bilbo cast him a reassuring smile before kneeling down next to the shaking form of Thorin Oakenshield, being careful not to kneel on the edges of Thorin’s cloak or make a sound as he made himself comfortable. He could be sitting there a while so he may as well make sure he didn’t have sore legs when he finally came back to himself.

Tentatively, Bilbo reached out with a hand towards Thorin’s face, making the sure the King was still deep within the depths of sleep before he finally made contact with the soft skin of Thorin’s cheek.

Bilbo allowed his eyes to slip close as his mind became filled with white light and a gasp left him as Thorin’s emotions penetrated deep within his consciousness. He forced himself to remain calm as the scene formed around him and Thorin’s emotions were finally distinguishable from one another. Sorrow dominated all other emotions, but as Bilbo sifted through them, he was finally able to see that many other emotions were there too- regret, guilt and grief came in short waves that almost brought Bilbo to tears.

However, he knew if he was going to be successful, Bilbo _had_ to remain calm. And that became an even harder task when Thorin’s nightmare finally formed around him.

A battlefield lay before him, completely devoid of life for all that had once lived now lay dead at Bilbo’s feet. Orcs, goblins, wargs and dwarves were strewn together, mud and blood covering their slack and expressionless faces, their eyes wide and frightened- a ghostly reminder that they had known, just before they had died, that it was over.

Bilbo forced himself not to look on their forms. Death always disturbed him. As a creature of Yavanna, Bilbo had always treasure life- from the sprigs of new growth to the towering trees in the Old Forest, all life had a meaning and a purpose to the eyes of a Hobbit.

Death, on the other hand, was wasted potential, an empty shell of what could have been if the life there had been cared for and nurtured as tenderly as Bilbo cared for his Roses.

But these bodies were not real. They were a figment of Thorin’s imagination- nothing more. The real worry was, where was Thorin? Where was the dwarf in this hellish place?

“Thorin?” Bilbo called gently, not wishing to disturb anything which lay hidden. Dreams could be dangerous places, literally anything could happen within them if Bilbo was not careful.

The sounds of pained sobbing eventually reached Bilbo’s ears as he made his way through the open graveyard. Looking around, Bilbo’s eyes fell on the form of Thorn, almost hidden amongst the bodies that were strewn around him. The King was on his knees, his arms wrapped around his own chest as though afraid he’d fall apart should he relinquish his hold. Bilbo couldn’t see his face, it was hidden behind his dark veil of hair as Thorin head was bowed over his knees.

Stepping carefully around the bodies, Bilbo reached the shivering form of Thorin and knelt in front of him, contemplating how he should announce himself.

“Thorin?” Bilbo whispered again, hoping to draw the dwarf out of his inner prison.

The dwarf stiffened but did not look up. Bilbo’s sudden presence had confused him; he’d not anticipated the hobbit’s presence in such a scene.

Emboldened, Bilbo slowly reached out and placed his hand on Thorin’s shoulder, squeezing reassuringly to let him know that he was not going to harm him.

Thorin had ceased shuddering and now raised his head to see who was speaking to him.

“Bilbo?” Thorin croaked when he recognised the hobbit kneeling before him.

“Yes, I’m here Thorin. It’s okay, everything is going to be fine,” Bilbo said soothingly, hoping his tone would bring Thorin’s attention away from the bodies around him.

However, Thorin’s face crumbled at Bilbo’s words. “It’s my fault.” And his eyes fell from Bilbo’s, drifting to the one of the bodies which lay to Thorin’s right.

Bilbo wasn’t sure exactly what Thorin had meant by that but he followed Thorin’s line of sight regardless and he gasped when he thought he saw Thorin’s body lying on the ground. But no, this dwarf couldn’t have been Thorin- where Thorin’s hair was as dark as a Raven’s feather, this dwarf’s hair was a mucky blonde shade. His crystalline blue eyes remained open, staring at the sky above and it was as Bilbo recognised those eyes in Thorin, that he realised this must be Frerin- the lost prince of Erebor. Balin had told Bilbo of his fall in the battle for Moria and that must be where he was- the battlefield of Azanulbizar.

And if Frerin was here... looking at the other bodies, Bilbo saw the family resemblance. Two elderly dwarves lay close by- Thror and Thrain, Thorin’s dead and missing grandfather and father. The final dwarf was a dwarrowdam, her face soft and kind, even in death- Thorin’s mother, who Bilbo did not know the name of nor knew much about, but she looked like a fierce woman nonetheless. 

As a fresh wave of pain ripped through Thorin’s mind, stronger than any gust of wind, Bilbo decided he’d seen enough.

Taking Thorin’s face between his palms, he forced the King to look away from the bodies of his fallen kin. “Thorin, look at me,” Bilbo said firmly when the dwarf’s gaze remained low and he reluctantly lifted his sorrowful blue eyes to Bilbo’s. “None of this is your fault, Thorin. None of it! You have to let them go,” he said more gently, hoping the calmness of his own mind would be allowed to flow through to Thorin’s.

And then Thorin did something that Bilbo did not expect. After chocking back a sob, Thorin released his arms from around his chest and enveloped Bilbo into a firm and warm hug. Once Bilbo had gotten over the initial surprise that, Thorin Oakenshield- stoic King under the Mountain, was giving him a hug, Bilbo managed to lift his arms and slip them around the King’s shaking body, each shudder sending tremors through Bilbo.

The scruff of Thorin’s beard tickled Bilbo’s neck as he buried his face in the crook of Bilbo’s neck, but Bilbo found he did not mind. The warmth that surrounded him was strangely comforting and Bilbo could feel Thorin start to calm down, the scene fading around them as Thorin’s attention was drawn away from it and became focussed entirely on Bilbo.

The hobbit just continued to comfort the dwarf, holding him against his smaller chest and stroking the King’s hair in way he’d found soothing as a faunt.

After a few heartbeats, Bilbo began to sing. It was a song he’d often used in these times. His mother had sung it to him when Bilbo had had trouble sleeping, and Bilbo had sung it in turn when his father had died and Belladonna had become sick with grief.

 

_Lay down_

_Your sweet and weary head_

_Night is falling_

_You’ve come to journey’s end_

_Sleep now_

_And dream of the ones who came before_

_They are calling_

_From across the distant shore_

 

Thorin relaxed considerably at Bilbo’s words, but he did not relinquish his hold nor move his face from his nest at Bilbo’s neck.

The scene around them had begun to shift, the bodies becoming no more than swirls of colour as they shifted into a new form. The colours became darker, more solid and eventually they came into focus. Walls of marble surrounded them, dark greys bled with white veins that stretched from floor to ceiling, webbing and branching their way around the room. The panelling was etched into rough archaic designs that were quite unfamiliar to Bilbo but were similar to the designs Bilbo had seen on the dwarves armour and braces.

“Thorin!” an excited voice called from the doorway and Thorin moved away from Bilbo to face the dwarf who had spoken to him.

A young dwarf stood in the doorway, his youthful blue eyes full of life and mischief that was distinctly similar to Fili and Kili’s. Frerin was almost unrecognisable in life. In death, his face had been so empty and devoid of the sheer joy which now filled the prince’s expression.

Looking between the two brothers, Bilbo observed as Thorin’s face morphed from his pain and shock into a smile so blazing that Bilbo had never thought the King’s face capable of it.

“C’mon brother, Thrandy's just arrived! What say you and I ride his moose through the upper halls?” he said cheekily and Thorin let out a genuine laugh as he got to his feet to follow his brother out of the room. Bilbo let him go, he’d done his part, there was no need to intrude on Thorin’s memories and dreams any more.

Before he could pull out however, he saw a smaller body run past the doorway and shout, “Wait for me!” as she pursued the brothers. Bilbo waited for a moment longer, watching as Dís caught up with her two older brothers. His heart warmed when he saw Thorin lift Dís onto his broad shoulders, carrying her as they raced towards their new destination that Bilbo was almost tempted to join them at.

As tempted as he was, this was not Bilbo’s dream and whilst Thorin was now earning some peaceful sleep, his own body was still crouched over Thorin’s and Ori would no doubt be very concerned and worried as to why their burglar was now touching the King’s face and had gone incredibly still.

Pulling out of Thorin’s mind, the first thing Bilbo felt was the cold which had seeped into his body from the cool night air. Bilbo removed his hand from Thorin’s face as he opened his eyes to gaze down at the sleeping dwarf. The King’s face, once full of tension and pain, was now relaxed and contented, a small smile playing at the dwarf’s lips and his breaths now coming deep and evened.

Bilbo was surprised to find wetness on his own cheeks and at first, he thought it had been raining whilst he’d been away from his body. But as he lifted his hand to his cheek, he realised he’d been crying. Tears clung to his fingertips and had run down to his chin, from where they were falling freely onto his shirt. Bilbo quickly wiped away his tears and composed his expression before looking up towards the area where Ori had been keeping watch.

Thankfully, he’d not been out so long that watch had changed. He didn’t want to think what would happen if Dwalin had caught Bilbo doing, Yavanna knows what, to the King as he slept.

Ori was watching him with a confused and worried expression, his eyes curious but not frightened. Taking a deep breath, Bilbo got to his feet and stretched the stiffness out of his limbs before heading towards the warmth the camp-fire offered. He had no choice but to explain to the young dwarf what he was, but for a strange reason that he could not quite put his finger on, he did not feel frightened about doing so.

 

* * *

 

 

The next few days had been awkward and strange for both Bilbo and Thorin. Bilbo couldn’t help but notice Thorin’s eyes following him as he walked about the campsite and the way that Thorin now made sure that his bedroll was within just a few meters of Bilbo’s, even going so far as to put whoever had decided to sleep near Bilbo on watch so that he could steal their spot. Bilbo didn’t really know what to make of the King’s strange new behaviour. Thorin didn’t bark at Bilbo as he had done before, in fact, he now completely ignored Bilbo throughout the day. It was only at night, that Thorin at least acknowledged Bilbo’s existence by moving slightly closer to him that he would do normally.

And Bilbo was not the only one to notice. Ori, who had become a fervent walking companion to Bilbo after his confession, often nudged Bilbo subtly to let him know the King had been staring in his direction. Other members of the company noticed too. Most notably, Fili and Kili had noticed, and it was they who Bilbo would see giggling to themselves as they shared their own private joke and looked between their uncle and burglar. Even Gandalf had a fresh new twinkle in his eye which did nothing but worry Bilbo all the more. What in Eru’s name was going on?

 

* * *

 

 

Things did not change for many weeks and that had not been the only time that Bilbo had decided to intervene on Thorin’s nightmares. Whilst Ori was on watch, Bilbo slipped closer to the dwarf and made frequent checks on his dreams.

The more Bilbo learnt about Thorin through his dreams, the more respect Bilbo had for the dwarf. He didn’t realise how highly Thorin valued his family and kin, he held them with such adoration and warmth that Bilbo couldn’t help but wish that Thorin let it show when he was awake. The subtle clues were there, to be sure, of the way Thorin always made sure that his nephews stayed together at all times, and the way Thorin conducted his sweeping counts of the company, making sure that everyone kept up, even Bilbo, who he had notably told to keep up when leaving Rivendell.

However, it was long after Rivendell that Thorin’s behaviour took quite an unexpected turn. Bilbo blamed himself really; he shouldn’t have been intruding on Thorin’s dreams again. But the King’s dreams had become oddly addicting and Bilbo longed to learn more and more about the dwarf who had enveloped Bilbo into a hug which had been far gentler and softer than the one they’d shared in the dream. Rather than actually speaking to the dwarf, who still intimidated Bilbo to no end, even after they had found a companionship with one another, Bilbo still favoured delving into his mind and finding the Thorin who was unrestrained by the bounds of his Kingly persona.

On this night, it was Bilbo’s turn to take watch, Thorin finally trusting Bilbo to be not so incompetent enough to fail to raise the alarm. When it came to the time for Bilbo to wake Thorin and change watches, Bilbo couldn’t resist delving into the King’s dreams again. The dwarf had just looked so peaceful, with a smile playing at his lips that Bilbo could not help but return, as though Thorin had been smiling at him.

The first warning sign should have been Thorin’s emotions. Desire and adoration filled the dream in a way that Bilbo had never experienced before and he almost pulled out then and there when Thorin’s emotions spilled over into Bilbo’s mind. However, a part of him, likely his Tookish nature, implored him to stay, against all propriety and common sense.

When the scene finally came into view, Bilbo’s jaw dropped. Well... that was... hm...

Bilbo was watching himself... an experience he’d never quite had before but that itself was not what concerned Bilbo the most. It was the fact that he was currently pressed against the wall of a marble corridor, with his hands buried in Thorin’s hair and his mouth sliding over the King’s in a dance of lips and soft moans.

He could only stand there like an idiot as Thorin pressed ever closer to his other self and moved his hands along Bilbo’s sides, in a way that Bilbo himself could almost _feel,_ as though those broad hands were on him instead. He’d never suspected... but then he thought that the King had never really alluded to his feelings for the Hobbit. Questions raced through his mind- how long? Was this just a fantasy or did Thorin actually have feelings and desires for Bilbo?

Bilbo’s thoughts were put on hold when he felt himself being forcibly removed from Thorin’s dream. Oh Yavanna, Thorin was waking up! Bilbo hastened to pull himself back but as he opened his eyes, he saw Thorin’s were already open, full of hunger and desire which rooted Bilbo in place and prevented him from moving a muscle, even with his hand still cupping Thorin’s cheek.

Thorin smiled softly, almost dreamily as he sat up and slipped his hand through Bilbo’s curls drawing the hobbit’s face closer to his own.

“Tho-” his words were cut off when the King’s eyes slipped shut and he pressed his lips firmly against Bilbo’s. And that was the end of all discernible thought. Once Bilbo had gotten over his initial surprise, he found himself returning the kiss, his own lips sliding and moving against Thorin’s in a delicious and hungry dance that sent sparks flying all the way down to his toes.

However, all too quickly, Thorin pulled back quite suddenly and Bilbo worried he’d done something wrong. The King was staring at him with shock and surprise, his eyes now awake and alert as he realised how entangled the two had become.

Thorin hastened to remove his hand from Bilbo’s curls, distancing himself from the hobbit in a way which sent a pang of longing and pain through Bilbo’s chest. Of course... Thorin had just been acting on the after-effects of his dream. He hadn’t really wanted... but then who would? He was just the company’s burglar...

“Bilbo!” Thorin gasped out, “Bilbo, you have my sincerest apologies... I hadn’t... I thought...” _I was dreaming_ went unsaid but it was all Bilbo needed to hear. Hadn’t Thorin felt Bilbo responding? Didn’t he know that he’d wanted that kiss just as much as Thorin had done at that moment? Couldn’t he tell, from Bilbo’s flushed expression, that he would not be against it happening again?

Thorin continued, looking more flustered and embarrassed than Bilbo had ever seen him. “I assure you Bilbo, that I will never behave like that again,” he said firmly, his face slowly regaining some of his kingly control.

“And if I want you to?” Bilbo found himself saying, almost causing him to put his hand over his mouth to stop himself from saying anything else that was stupid.

Thorin’s eyes widened in surprise. “Sorry?”

Bilbo swallowed, figuring that if Thorin was going to push himself away, then it was up to him to clear the air. “What if I didn’t mind you... kissing me?” he said uncertainly, uncertain of Thorin’s response but certain of his feelings for the dwarf. “What then?” he asked softly, his voice no more audible than a whisper.

The King stared at him for a moment and Bilbo considered returning to his bedroll and pretending that this had never happened. After all what would a king want with a hobbit?

Before he could go anywhere, however, Thorin shifted closer to Bilbo, their faces nearly as close as they had been just moments before. Bilbo could feel the heat rolling from the dwarf’s skin in waves and he longed to be closer, longed to lose himself in the warmth and softness of Thorin’s skin.

Seconds rolled by, and they could have been minutes or hours for all Bilbo knew. Time seemed to slow down as Thorin cupped Bilbo’s cheek once more, the calluses on his hands no way unpleasant against Bilbo’s smooth cheek. It was Thorin, and that in itself was reassuring and enough for them both. His eyes, which had been previously nervous and unsure, were now so soft and tender that Bilbo couldn’t help but stare back into their blue depths.

Thorin’s breath washed over Bilbo’s face and Bilbo’s eyes automatically slipped closed as Thorin drew himself closer still, his nose brushing slightly against Bilbo’s in a way which caused Bilbo to suppress a shudder. The first touch was immeasurably gentle, far gentler than the first kiss they’d shared but it was enough for Bilbo to forget about anything except the dwarf who was now kissing him in a way that Bilbo had never thought possible for such a powerful warrior.

His thoughts left him entirely and all worries dissipated as soon as Thorin shifted and teased Bilbo’s lips between his. Neither of them worried that no-one was keeping watch over the camp, a whole army could have marched through their camp at that moment and they would have been none the wiser for it. There was just the scratch of Thorin’s beard against his skin, a sensation he would never have thought to be pleasant. And yet it was. And there was the warmth and softness of Thorin’s lips against his own, slightly chapped from weeks of walking in the wilderness, not that Bilbo could find himself to care.

Especially when Thorin’s tongue valiantly asked for permission against Bilbo’s lips to which Bilbo could only allow, opening his mouth to the dwarf who wasted no time taking advantage of Bilbo’s submission. A low moan left Bilbo as their tongues met- a sound that Bilbo would ordinarily be ashamed and embarrassed of. The kiss gained in depth but it in no way lost the gentle tenderness with which it had begun.

After a few moments, both of them had to pull back for air which rushed into Bilbo’s lungs, filling them and leaving him gasping as Thorin pressed their foreheads together and they both smiled giddily at one another before stealing another kiss. One after another until they'd both quite lost count. 

And after that night, Bilbo did not hesitate to join Thorin in his dreams. And they lay together every night after, warm and secure in each other’s arms as Bilbo passed from his own dreams and into Thorin’s, their contact never breaking all night through. Thorin never again had a nightmare, for Bilbo was always there. Always there to take his hand and lead him to pastures new, to places deep within each of their memories, to places where the shadows Smaug and Azog cast could not touch them.

**Author's Note:**

> This was actually the first ever idea I had for a fic, but when I first wrote it, it came out awful and I was reluctant to start it again. But I just had the urge to write a one-shot and my muse is suffering in 'Blackthorn' so to keep me writing, I decided to try again and I think I'm happier with the results, maybe... I dunno :P 
> 
> Hope you enjoyed it! Comments and Kudos are much appreciated!
> 
> Have a majestic day!
> 
> my tumblr: http://meg-thilbo.tumblr.com/


End file.
